Passion T
by RuthieBelle
Summary: A Teen version of the story "Passion" (There is a slightly racier "M" as well.)


Title: Passion

Author: RuthieBelle

Rating: M

Summary: William and Julia have a discussion about losing control in in both love and anger.

Notes: This is what happens when Ruthie Green and Fallenbelle have a discussion about how William and Julia still show affection for one another, the passion is gone. This is our attempt to put some of that back in…

* * *

As he came back to Station House #4 from the scene of Mr. Ramsay's murder, William didn't even have a chance to return to his desk before being called over to the Inspector's office.

Wondering what grievous error he was about to be called out for this time, he braced himself for a new attack on his character. _No doubt lobbied by the scoundrel Shanley or that hack Watts. The sooner both of them were to be gone the better,_ he thought to himself as he closed the door to Brackenreid's office behind him and braced himself.

"Have a seat, Murdoch," the man pointed to a chair. I want to know, what's really going on here?" he asked.

"Sir?" William asked. _What 'goings on' did he want to know exactly?_ He wasn't sure where to start.

"The assault on Shanley, Murdoch. I know you don't make it a habit to throttle people for no good reason, so he must have said or done something. Which was it?" he asked.

"Sir, the man has decided to take up residence at my hotel, and has made it a habit of not so subtly bumping into me, continually trying to speak with me and impugn my character." William tried not to whine. "Even so, that I could deal with sir, but last night, he accosted me again, and this time he called Julia a harridan, sir, and insinuated that she was inept and or deliberately trying to create evidence against him. He compared her to a nag, a hag, and who knows else what he would have done. After everything that's happened the last few months, sir, I cannot tolerate such behavior. I know I shouldn't have let him get to me, sir, but…" he trailed off, trying to find the correct words.

Brackenreid chortled. "It's always her, isn't it? The few times I've seen you not act your normal self, when you, the master of self-control has lost it, have inevitably been linked to Dr. Ogden. I must say Murdoch, it's something of a relief to know that you're not so perfect, that even you have a weakness, and that it's a woman even," he scoffed, standing up and walking over to his bar to pour himself a scotch. Remembering his manners, he offered Murdoch one, and was not surprised when the man declined.

"Yes, sir." Murdoch admitted to his defect. "I'm afraid I don't respond to attacks on her safety or even her character particularly well, and to be honest, my outbursts surprise even myself."

"It's understandable, Murdoch, but Christ! When did you decide to let your life be dictated by women? Most of your problems are inevitably related to them, and it bloody well surprises me, man," the inspector baldly stated, but with good humour.

Looking down and studying the weave and pattern of his neck tie, William shook his head. "I don't know that I've ever had a choice in the matter, sir," he admitted before he straightened up in his chair, regaining his composure. "Sir, I am fully prepared to make an appearance and apologize to the Chief Constable myself. This most recent detail is my fault, even if I do not accept responsibility for everything else, sir. I stand by my investigation from 12 years ago, and I…" he began before Brackenreid cut him off.

"Save it, Murdoch. I can't say that I would have behaved any differently to a man insulting my wife's integrity and character either, and I'll mention this along with the fact that he has deliberately chosen to set up residence where you live, and harass you there. I'll deal with it, just avoid him from now on, got it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," William complied.

"Good. Look, there's not much you can do from here, so go home and read a book, say a prayer, do whatever you do in your free time. Maybe start construction on that house you're going to build Dr. Ogden even," he ordered.

Knowing that he was in no position to argue, William nodded and after gathering his things, left the stationhouse.

 _There is no doubt that Julia will want to speak with me about this._

Back in their suite and after checking with Julia that she would be home by her usual time, William puttered about setting a tableau for romance. Perhaps if he were to distract her, she might not ask what had possessed him to grab Shanley.

He sighed. Distracting Julia was unlikely, but maybe he could mitigate the discussion ever so slightly, perhaps?

Anticipating the question he knew would come, he decided to ponder it himself so that he'd be better prepared. Why _had_ he grabbed Shanley? Was it because it was his duty as her husband to defend her, or was it because he could not tolerate anyone slandering her name?

He closed his eyes and concentrated for a few moments. _Yes, it was duty, but it was also an inability to hear anyone speak ill of her, as an attack on her was ultimately an attack on myself_ _ **,**_ he realized.

He winced when he thought of telling Julia the truth; anticipating her anger. But admittedly, she had been sending him mixed signals on that topic, as there had been times she'd been upset that he'd assumed she couldn't take care of herself, and other times, she'd been upset that he'd taken no action. He was often confused as to what she really wanted, but they had settled into a comfortable routine wherein he sometimes intervened, and other times he stayed out, judging each situation as he went.

Furthermore, this line of thinking also reminded him of Watts and his remark that he had hoped his wife was pretty because why _else_ would he have done something so foolish as marry a colleague if she hadn't been pretty?

That he viewed her as a damsel and treasure to defend did not surprise him. He'd always viewed himself as a champion for women, but were such feelings towards Julia a general result of duty he felt towards women, or could he stand no criticism towards the woman he loved?

 _Well, Julia is more than pretty as a matter of fact; she is indeed beautiful,_ he affirmed to himself. But was that why he had married a colleague? _Certainly not!_ his mind countered. There were lots of pretty women whose acquaintance he could have made over the years through church or any number of activities— including Sarah Pensall, Enid Jones, and many other young ladies who had tried to catch his fancy over the years.

Furthermore, this included Anna Fulford, a woman who was quite lovely herself and who he had definitely had strong feelings for, but despite all of this, his heart demanded Julia, and he had let Anna go. These facts alone alluded to the fact that he thought Julia more than a pretty package; she was the complete package.

Although her beauty was second to none in his eyes, but it certainly wasn't the only reason he'd fallen in love with her. He loved her brilliant scientific mind, the way they could discuss cases with one another, the way she understood him like no one else ever would. When he thought about why he loved Julia, her physical attributes were not the first things he thought about: _I had fallen for her because she was my equal, my partner. Simply put, I'd learned the hard way that though I had tried, I couldn't live without her._

William gazed at their wedding picture. _No, if all I'd wanted was pretty, I wouldn't have waited for her as long and as painfully as I had,_ he mused as he walked about the living room, setting candles out around the room and readying the phonograph with some of Julia's favorite recordings. _Any number of women would have adequately sufficed if all I'd wanted was pretty, a good home maker, and someone who would bear me as many biological children as I wanted._

No, he'd wanted it all: looks, brains, education, achievement, compatibility, and passion. Julia was all of those things, and while they had shared plenty of passion in the past, there was no doubt that it had been lacking recently. Perhaps that's why things had been a bit muted between them of late, as he'd done a phenomenal job of letting her know that he loved her intellect and companionship (and that he wasn't particularly interested in her money.)

 _But when was the last time I told her she was beautiful? That I desired her ardently?_

William felt a frisson of disquiet. _Do_ _I desire her as I once had_ _ **?**_ While they had resumed their intimate activities once again, neither were their passions as heated as they had once been.

Before they had wed, he had spent many an evening fantasizing about what it would be like once they were united in matrimony. When he was free to make love to her every night if they so desired, when he wouldn't be perpetually _frustrated_ anymore, he imagined what they would do once they were married and it wasn't a sin to enjoy the pleasures of the marital bed. He also looked forward to have a safe, acceptable outlet to express his darker, more lustful thoughts and longed to do so with her.

Once they were married, they'd done just that. While he'd been reticent to express some of his desires with Julia, over the course of their marriage she'd encouraged him to allow those thoughts to see the light of day, and given him confidence to even act upon some of them.

But that was before she'd been shot. He'd been so grateful to simply still have her with him, he'd once again suppressed those scandalous thoughts, and up until now, he'd been content with just enjoying her presence and her company. Resuming relations after Julia's near death experience being a notable exception, their intimate moments had settled into a quiet, comfortable routine of late.

 _Well, I may need to change that._

Acknowledging that it had been months since he'd dared show her the "dark places" of his mind as he referred to it, was it time to do so? Would something so lascivious put the passion back in their relationship?

Making sure that the roses and that a box of her favorite chocolates were prominently displayed where she wouldn't miss them upon her arrival, he glanced at the clock. There were still more than two hours until she'd return for the evening.

Looking around their suite and deciding that he was largely pleased with his efforts, he decided to partake in a little fantasizing; something he didn't dare give rein to at work, and an activity he didn't do around Julia as he had thought it wasn't necessary any longer.

As he felt in an amorous mood, and desired to see something a little different play out for the evening, he began to imagine how wonderful it would be to feel her in his arms, smell her hair as it brushed his cheek, and enjoy the sensations of their tongues as he kissed her, imagining that his tongue was a different piece of anatomy.

Removing all but his undershirt and trousers, he stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the indulgence of lazing about in the middle of the day while feeling only _slightly_ guilty about entertaining impure thoughts as his mind relaxed and began to fantasize about Julia, and what they might do together this evening. After deciding on whether or not he wanted to be the aggressor or the prey, he decided that he was in the mood for submission and let his mind scan the possibilities for what would scintillate him this afternoon.

Years ago, when he wasn't confident enough to confess his true feelings to her on his own, he would often imagine her approaching him and ordering him to serve her, to have her way with him, and though he'd felt terribly guilty afterwards, these fantasies remained happy memories.

Thus, it did not take long to start fantasizing about Julia dominating him, bidding him to please her, and following her commands without hesitation. His mind dredged up an old fantasy of his wherein Julia called him over to the morgue to assist her with something and when he'd arrived, she'd been waiting for him naked, requesting that he please her at once.

Of course, he'd happily obliged.

Feeling his body respond to what she had ordered do to him to do, he spent a happy few minutes imagining what would happen when his mind turned to the opposing position. Of course, while he'd fantasized about her dominating him, there had been moments when he'd imagined the opposite: when he would approach her and have his way with her. These moments had been even more shameful, because the thought of anyone making Julia or any other woman submit to unwanted advances was deplorable. Yet, he couldn't help himself, and these fancies had begun with glimpsing her bottom.

William suspected his feelings might be more than friendship when he had caught himself ogling her backside on more than one occasion, admiring the shape and eventually wondering how it would feel when he cupped it in the palm of his hand: would it be firm, would it be a delight to touch her in such a scandalous way? With a smirk, he mused that he knew the answer to that question now: her body was exquisite. But as he recalled the rest of those musings and how they all ended with bending her over a solid surface and taking her from behind, he blushed, as that fantasy had remain unfulfilled. He'd never dared do such a thing; how would Julia react to being manhandled like that? Would she be receptive? She had encouraged him to be bolder in his lovemaking, to satisfy his fantasies… but would she still be so encouraging after he had done such a thing? After a while, he smiled….

 _Dare I find out?_

* * *

Julia was thoughtful as she set the telephone earpiece down in its cradle. William seldom left the station house before six pm, and it was hard to credit that the inspector sent him home early—but that was what her husband told her. She inquired if he was ill, but he brushed that aside to say he had an errand to run and would see her when she finished work. She did not think he was merely trying to escape talking about that awful headline, but had an inkling he wanted to discuss it on his own terms. _So be it._

Julia placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her domain—there was one chemical test to evaluate and one lengthy report to complete on Mr. Ramsey's death, after which her tasks for the day would be complete. Still, she did not have the usual feeling of satisfaction after a job well done, even though she helped vindicate her and William's work in convicting Mr. Shanley for murder. She shook her head and straightened up, catching her reflection in the glass doors of the cabinet just beyond the morgue's gurney…and smiled.

 _He said William was wrong, that I was not pretty…he called me beautiful! Classically proportioned!_ Julia pushed an errant curl behind her ear, trying to see what Watts had seen in her face. _Of all the odd things to say, and from such an odd character!_ She wondered, struggling against being tickled by the slanted compliment nonetheless. _It was pleasant to get a sincere, if awkward compliment,_ she decided after a moment, and tried to recall the last time William offered her praise, at least when they were not in the midst of enjoying marital relations. _Did it count more then …or less?_ she mused.

Humming, she took up her instruments and began to record the data.

# # #

Julia stopped by the station house to deliver her final report to Inspector Brackenreid only to discover he was absent from his office. George sat at his own desk, head bent down, absorbed by sorting a heap of pages into neat piles. She came up behind and spoke his name softly to give him her report, which unfortunately only proceeded to cause him to jump abruptly and allow a stack of his work to flow off the edge of the desk onto the floor, coming to rest at her feet.

"Oh, George! I am so sorry. I did not mean to startle you," she said as she knelt down to pick up the sheaves of paper.

George rushed to her aide and bent to collect the rest of the pages. "That's all right doctor. I am just sorting these back into their folders for Detective Watts."

Julia handed the last of the paper to him. "Ah, yes, Detective Watts. What did you think of him, George? I have never worked a case with him, but I asked around. He was appointed to the detective position at station house No. 1 only six months ago, and that area of the city has had no murders or unexplained deaths."

"He was transferred from Kingston, I believe. He does seem to move around quite a bit…. But, he, err… was quite stimulating to work with, actually. For instance," he gestured to the paper that drifted over two desks. "He had me hold these folders all day long, carry them with us everywhere we went but not look in them. He told me that it was possible to know more if one did not know anything, and he expounded on his philosophy for finding the truth, or at least I thought it was the truth, or at least the truth as he sees it. Also something about being in nature that makes one wise. He was very… ambiguous, but it was fascinating to hear his mind work-he just narrated whatever he was thinking, you know? I'm considering using something like that in my next novel. Not at all the methods that Detective Murdoch uses." George blushed a bit at the admission as if he was being disloyal in some way.

Julia saw George's enthusiasm. "I see. I believe that sort of narration would be called 'stream of consciousness,' and yes, I know what you mean about his saying whatever pops into his head with no filter." She looked at the file folders, concerned, because piled in a jumble were the notes and records necessary to tie up Mr. Shanley's conviction and she knew her husband, never mind the inspector, would be furious to see such disarray if it jeopardized the case. "As for his philosophical theories, he seems to be conflating Socrates and Emanuel Kant with a little bit of something eastern thrown in." Curiosity peaked; she looked again at the desk. "George, how did these documents get to be such a mess?"

Sitting back down, George sighed. "Detective Watts, he…well he had an idea about finding the most pertinent information from the records and, well…" George stopped, but held a huge grin on his face.

"Well, what, George? What did he do?" she inquired.

George made sure she was serious and waved her in closer when she nodded at him to continue. "He had these folders with us all day, just carting them around, and then he said the most extraordinary thing. He said that the best way to know what was important in them was to…was to…" He stopped again and tried not to smile at the memory. In a conspiratorial whisper he explained: "Well he said the most extraordinary thing…He said we should throw them down the stairs and see which pages went the farthest and that would guide the next part of the investigation!"

Julia was stunned. "What on earth…" she started say when George interrupted her.

"All over the wardroom hallway down stairs. Let me tell you I had my heart in my throat when he grabbed them and took off. Higgins nearly stepped on the fingermark cards!" He chuckled at her shocked expression. "But the amazing part is, doctor, the page that went the farthest was the information on that new method of testing chemical residue, so in my way of thinking his method was accurate since that was the eventual clue that led to his conviction…"

Julia held her tongue in irritation, until her mind's-eye produced the vision of a waterfall of paper pouring down the stairs and sliding along the corridor, making the men halt in their tracks so as not to compromise the evidence. Then she began to laugh. "I see…" she said, before trying to assume a stern face again. "Don't ever let either or the inspector or my husband know about that stunt. I am sure the detective can give you the mathematical reason for that particular page taking such a long spill…" She smiled at him as she hand her report to him. "And don't lose this either, down the stairs or anywhere else."

"Detective Watts is a breath of fresh air is what I think, doctor. I wonder when he will have another case with you?" George added.

Julia pushed her grin down again with effort, but it was not working, thinking, _Detective Watts will be a handful_. "Indeed, George, a breath of fresh air…or of hot air!" she mused as she gave George a sideways smile of her own. _I haven't decided which_.

# # #

Julia walked up the stairs to their suite, still considering the "case" of Detective Watts. On the way home she had been turning over in her mind exactly what was difficult as well as interesting about the man. _George is certainly taken with him_ , she reflected, aware she must be a little bit as well to spend any time at all thinking about him. _Watts is imprecise, untidy, and illogical with a proclivity for expressing himself in an ungoverned way at the spur of the moment._ _So different than William…_

Julia stopped on the second floor landing in surprise. _Oh my! No wonder he is intriguing!_ He was the very antithesis of her overly controlled husband. _Except when he is not!_ She made a face, thinking about that newspaper article and photograph as she continued to her floor. What got into her husband, she wondered? _And what ever happened to me being able to provoke such passion?_

She arrived at her doorway just as a dinner cart was coming up the hall from the other end. "I hope that is for me, Ben," she asked the server.

"Yes, Dr. Ogden. Detective Murdoch ordered dinner for precisely six-forty, and it is right hot off the stove."

Julia could smell the savory beef, _William's favorite_ , she knew, and her mouth began to water in anticipation. Even more so for the small split of red wine and cake William had ordered to go with the meal. _William really is trying to cushion his discussion tonight—I see right through him, but this meal will be worth it!_

Giving the server her most winning smile, she opened the door so the cart could enter. "Thank you, Ben. That will be all," she said and took charge of the cart.

When she looked up from her task, Julia was astonished to see William waiting for her in nothing but his shirt (which was untucked), his trousers, and bare feet. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him so casually presented (outside of the bedroom, that was) - let alone at such a relatively early hour.

"William, I must say that this is quite the surprise," she offered in way of a greeting as she looked around the room at the scene he'd carefully assembled for her. The room was set for romance, with no detail overlooked as she noted a beautiful bouquet of roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. The entire tableau was lit with candles as opposed to electric light, softening the effect.

 _He must really be nervous about this discussion,_ she thought as she took another look around.

"Good. Then my plan was a success," he murmured, looking to make sure that Ben had left the suite before continuing. "Why don't you go slip into something more comfortable while I set the table," he offered as he slipped her jacket off.

"I suppose I could do that," Julia began as he caught her arm and pulled her back into him, seizing her lips for a kiss before cupping her bottom and making sure she felt his current state of arousal.

 _Well, I suppose this is one way to get my attention,_ she thought as she made it a point to find him and give him a bit of a squeeze of her own.

Groaning, William broke off their kiss as he swatted her hand away. "Not now, Mrs. Murdoch, but perhaps after dinner?" he asked.

"All right William," she nodded, "that can be arranged," she replied with a sly grin.

As she walked into the room, she saw where her blue silk dressing gown embroidered with violets had been laid out for her, and she smiled. There was no doubt William had aimed for a seduction for this evening, and she felt her belly coil with anticipation.

But the question remained _:_ _Is he seducing me in an attempt to avoid a discussion, or is it because he truly wants me, physical indicators not withstanding?_

* * *

The meal he ordered for the evening was reminiscent of the aged beef they'd once enjoyed at Delmonico's and was of course, delicious. He hoped the delightful, opulent meal would remind both of them of their honeymoon, and yet William felt dread in his stomach at discussing what he knew what Julia would want to know: what on earth had provoked him into grabbing Gus Shanley?

William's nervousness couldn't help but tarnish the meal a bit for him. As it was completed, he loaded the cart and pushed it out into the hall, then placed one of Julia's favorite recordings on the phonograph: Debussy's _Claire de Lune._ He ran his fingers through his hair, momentarily lost and wondering what to do next.

Julia was enjoying herself immensely up until this point. Their dinner conversation was as satisfying as the meal, even with William vacillating between romantic overtures and trepidation. _It does tend to ruin the mood._ Noting his discomfiture she knew that, like an infected wound, the best thing to do was to lance it.

"William? What are you pussy-footing around about?" Julia's blue eyes sparked in frustrated amusement.

Laughing, he shook his head. "I suppose you know Julia, so why don't you tell me what I'm nervous about."

"Very well, William," she announced, walking across the room and grabbing a copy of the day's newspaper, "tell me about this," she asked.

"I got physical with a suspect, Julia. It happens," he answered, gulping down a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry mouth.

"No, William. Inspector Brackenreid gets physical with suspects. Admittedly, you have as well, but only on a few, notable occasions. William, I've seen you with bruised and scraped knuckles after you pummeled someone who had threatened Anna Fulford's life, and when you apprehended a modern day slave trader so unless I am woefully misinformed and have missed something of great importance, Mr. Shanley is none of those things. So, why William, did you get physical with _him_?" she asked.

Wincing, he took a deep breath, and struggled to find an explanation that adequately put his feelings into words. Julia did not allow him to answer, and kept up her speculation. He sighed: _Well, I did ask her to tell me…._

"Of course, there was also the time you hit Darcy because he insulted me, so was that it William? Did Mr. Shanley insult me somehow?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes," he nodded, exhaling almost in relief. "He insulted your character, and I didn't like it," he quietly answered.

"And by extension your own, perhaps?" she guessed. "William, we've been over this. I can defend myself, and as sweet as it is, I don't need your protection, I am quite capable…" she began before she was cut off.

"You say you don't need or want my protection, Julia…well, I beg to differ. You were disappointed I didn't offer it all those years ago when the Inspector insulted you, yet you were all too glad to have it when the masons questioned your credentials. Furthermore, you were also quite appreciative when I threw young Mr. Garland out of your office, so please tell me Julia, for the record, would you rather I remain disinterested, or have zero tolerance for anyone who does not offer you the respect that you deserve?" William asked with an aggrieved tone, then silently standing there as he shook his head before continuing.

"I don't know what you want, Julia. Every day is a guessing game, all I do know is….." he trailed off before turning his back to her and walking away. He hadn't meant to handle things in quite this way…

 _Guessing game indeed._ In fact, Julia was torn between wanting to prompt William into just getting out with whatever was on his mind, and knowing his mind did not seem to work that way—he mulled and calculated each variable. Then it came to her… _He's afraid I am going to be angry!_ She stood and approached him, letting her hand sweep the side table for the paper and getting as close as she could while keeping his attention firmly on her eyes (and nowhere else.)

"William Murdoch! You always think I am going to be irritated or angry in some way that feels bad or wrong to you. In fact, anger is a human emotion and healthy, at least in proportion, in human relationships, even marriages. We have only ever had one actual row—a public one in fact! And while we argue occasionally, neither of us is prone to verbally attacking the other," she threw back. "Tell me what you need to say…"

"I told you, he insulted you. He called you a harridan, and was threatening to lobby other accusations at you, Julia. I couldn't stand it, and I didn't think, I just did it." He held her hand and offered a winsome smile and caught her eyes with his. "And to know that I can't control myself when it comes to you, Julia, is an unsettling thought," he finished.

"You think this is about defending me, William, when it is most assuredly not. Without thinking of the consequences, you defend me from a pathological liar who does not care who he brings down in achieving his goals, yet you manage to control your passion for me, William! When did I stop inspiring such zeal in you? You used to desire me greatly, but now, we're just simply affectionate with one another, and I miss what we had!" She let her eyes flash again.

"You want me to lose control and become angry with you?" he asked incredulously, head cocked to the side.

Julia's mouth fell open. "You accuse _me_ of mixed signals?" She gave a light laugh. "I cannot determine if your plan is to ravish me or if you are preparing to duck as if I am about to throw this lamp at your head!" She gestured from his courting gifts to the light fixture.

Laughing nervously in return, he shook his head again. "Well, because I'm hoping for the first, but I am also preparing for the second. One never knows with you, Julia!"

"That's what makes it interesting, gives colour to your life, does it not?" She shifted her hair. "No William, I want you to lose control, but not with anger. And while you are afraid of my anger, what about yours? What you witnessed as a child was rage, William…not anger. In this case it was you who accosted Mr. Shanley—why on earth did you do that? Detective Watts was quite displeased." She brought up the newspaper photo. "I must admit you do look handsome, however…."

William could feel that the tenor of their interaction had shifted. His heart started lifting in that familiar way as the tension drained off. "Detective Watts and his fantastical ideas were having an unhealthy effect on George. He is too irrational and unpredictable and we will be well rid of him," he allowed, interested in Julia's opinion of the man but only vaguely in one part of his brain off to the side, while the majority of his awareness was on tension of another kind that was rapidly, powerfully building between them.

"Oh, I don't know. Detective Watts did come at things from an unexpected angle. Sometimes, the unexpected is quite thrilling you know?" she informed him. Julia gave him one of her most molten, pointed looks and received William's darkening eyes in reaction. _Now I have his entire attention_.

Tightening her sash with a certain effect in mind and walking across the room, she deliberately went over to pick up the fallen newspaper off the floor to toss it into the wastebasket, allowing the silk fabric of her robe to twitch and slide over her derrière. She had nothing on underneath it and the thin fabric clung to every curve and crease. She heard William's intake of breath when she bent down and fished for the pages. _It seems a good meal, vigorous discussion and some emotional exchange were an aphrodisiac._ She was already melting in anticipation when she wiggled her hips and bottom suggestively as she stood up, quite aware she was provoking him; hoping he might get the message.

William's field of vision narrowed to the sight of his wife's luscious curves, enough to push him into action, unleashing months, possibly years, of pent-up desire. He immediately grabbed her by the hips and pulled her over to the cleared dining table, bending her face down onto the surface. He raised the hem of her robe up her legs and over her bottom, the sensation of the fabric in his fingers and as it caressed her skin an aphrodisiac of it's own.

"You want me to lose control, Julia?" he raspily asked in her ear as she could hear him drop his trousers behind her.

 _Oh God, he's going to take me from behind, right here on this table!_ she thought as she felt as his grip on her hip bones tightened and she knew that there would eventually be bruises.

In losing control, William had assumed all of the control, and the paradox resulted in an amazing connection between them. He felt very powerful and free, reveling in the moment.

When they were done, William's mind was still floating and he was supremely happy, unable to keep a smile off his face. He stood back up and after kicking off his pants and shrugging out of his shirt, he swung her up and easily carried her to their bed in his strong arms. He laid her down gently amongst the bedclothes, finding her mouth for a deep, satisfying kiss and was rewarded by her enthusiastic response. "Oh, Julia.." he began, running his hands over her flesh, then stopping abruptly to catalog all of the marks and beginning of bruises he'd just been responsible for inflicting.

Though he touched her gently, Julia saw the happy look on his face dimming with worry and she knew that she needed to stop his downward spiral at once. "William, look at me. You did as I asked. I wanted to experience your unchecked passion for me that others experience. I asked for this," she reassured him, with a smile, stroking his brow.

For once, William was able to hear her and quell his doubts. Feeling pleasure and happiness flood back, he laughed: _Only Julia!_ He shifted his hold on her to bring her very close, capturing her eyes with his and her lips with his mouth for another passionate embrace. Something wonderful had shifted between them he was never going to let go. Satisfied he was leaving her breathless, he teased: "And here I thought this was my idea…"


End file.
